Chapter 12
MELANI
I’m blinking up at the ceiling, counting the seconds of my captivity like a prisoner marking days on a cell wall, when voices drift in from outside my door.
I jump off the bed and hurry over, leaning against it to hear better. But the damn doors in this hotel are too thick. All I catch are muffled sounds.
Is that a woman’s voice?
A hot, ugly pit opens up in my stomach.
Is he bringing women here while I’m locked up? While I’m about to lose my mind with boredom? Absolutely not. Without a second thought, I start slapping my palms against the door.
“Open this door! Open it right now!” I scream, hoping that even if they can’t hear my words, they’ll at least hear my voice. “Ivan!”
The voices stop. Did they hear me? Encouraged, I continue making a racket until I hear the now-familiar beep of the code being entered.
The door swings open, and standing in the doorway is a thoroughly pissed-off Ivan Petrov. His rage reminds me of Papa’s anger. I flinch back instinctively, bracing for the blow that might come. Instead, his eyes narrow at my reaction. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem?” The word comes out incredulous, almost a laugh.
And just like that, my confidence surges back. Despite the anger etched into his face, his voice is calm, and he doesn’t make any kind of move to come inside and yell or hit me. He’s not Papa.
“I don’t know, Ivan.” I inject as much sarcasm as I can muster into his name. “Maybe my problem is that I’ve been locked inside this room, alone, with no information about my situation or what you’re planning to do to me.”
My voice lowers at the thought. Is he going to kill me? Use my attraction to him to exploit me for sex? Torture me for information I don’t have? Not knowing what comes next somehow feels worse than the kidnapping itself.
“You can’t just leave people alone in empty rooms with nothing but their thoughts to keep them company,” I continue, my frustration building. “Even actual prisoners get TV and books. And most importantly, they know what’s going to happen to them. A trial, or a sentence, or—”
Or a bullet.
He opens his mouth to respond, but before any words can emerge, a door opens somewhere in the background.
“I’m done hiding, Vanya. What the hell is going on with—”
The feminine voice cuts off the second she steps into view, her eyes landing on me with undisguised curiosity. I inhale sharply. She’s stunning.
Her dark hair, striped with ash blonde highlights, falls in carefully styled layers over her shoulders.
Striking dark brows curve gracefully above eyes that shimmer with a mesmerizing blend of blue and green.
A straight, narrow nose complements her lovely features, while her lips, perfectly shaped, only add to her undeniable charm.
She’s dressed the part too—red slacks, a black camisole, and a short black jacket that screams designer. When she walks closer, her earrings catch the light, almost blinding me with their sparkle. This is his type? I mean, understandable. But…
I glance down at myself. I’m still in my Zvezda uniform, and next to her polished perfection, I feel dowdy. The thought makes anger spike hot and irrational in my belly, and the words spill out without any filter. “Does she know you were grinding your hard dick against my ass just this morning?”
The woman blanches, eyes going wide. Then she does something completely unexpected—she laughs. A genuine, amused laugh. “The last thing I want to know about is my brother’s sex life.” She gives an exaggerated shudder, her nose wrinkling. “Please, spare me the details.”
Brother. My cheeks flash hot with embarrassment. The red haze finally fades from my vision, and I study her again with fresh eyes. Although they don’t share identical features, I can see the resemblance now that I’m looking for it. Goddamnit.
“Go back to my office, Mira,” Ivan snaps, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him with his sister on the other side. Then he glares down at me. “What was all that shit about? Don’t tell me you were jealous.”
“No fucking way,” I retort quickly. Too quickly. The heat floods deeper into my cheeks, and he raises a single knowing brow as he closes the distance between us.
“You’re a curious creature, Myshka. I haven’t even kissed you yet, and already you’re possessive of me.”
Adrenaline buzzes under my skin as I back away from him. “I’m not possessive of you.” Shit. I need to make my request now that I have his attention. I can’t let him derail me again. “Now, tell me what you plan to do with me.”
He pauses his advance, rubbing his brow with his thumb as he watches me. The motion tugs his sleeve up just enough to reveal a flash of dark ink. My heart stutters. He has tattoos? Of course he does. And of course, even that is attractive.
“Whatever I want,” he finally says.
I gulp. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He’s still watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve.
“I already told you—I didn’t see anything.” The words come out sharper than I mean them to, but at this point, I’m more upset at myself than I am with him.
What is wrong with me? Am I really so starved for attention that I’m getting turned on by a mafioso? A man who shot someone in front of me and threatened to rip out my tongue? Somehow, my body doesn't seem to care about those reminders.
“Excuse me if I don’t trust a word you say.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Make a ruckus like that again, and you’re getting cuffed.” With that threat, he starts to leave.
“Wait, Vanya!” He stops mid-step, glancing back at me with that infuriating raised brow that makes him look both amused and annoyed.
“If I’m going to be stuck here for god knows how long, at least give me something to entertain myself with. How about a laptop? Or a phone?" I haven’t seen my phone since I handed it over to the bouncers. And that already feels like a lifetime ago.
“How about no?” He starts to leave again.
“Okay! Okay, sorry! A book, then. No, two books. No, three—” I stop when he turns to face me fully, arms crossing over his chest, patience clearly gone. “Just… get me as many books as you can. I consume them quickly.”
“What do you think this is, myshka? You think you have leverage to make demands?”
I deflate, my brief spark of hope extinguished. Of course I don’t have leverage. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking. Making demands for books when I should be demanding my freedom instead. When I should be demanding to know what the hell he did to my brother.
But I don’t want him to link me to Luciano. Not yet.
Chin up, Mel. Remember your plan. Be nice to him so you can get free access to the hotel suite.
“Yeah, okay.” I don’t have the energy to muster up a smile for him, so I just give him my back as I walk towards the window, heart heavy with the crushing weight of my reality.